


on me dit

by poppyharris



Category: Columbine - Fandom, true crime rpf
Genre: M/M, being sad ur bf is dead / in prison, did yall know both dylan klebold and timothy mcveigh were 6”3, fade to black sorta, what have i become
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:14:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29121747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poppyharris/pseuds/poppyharris
Summary: eric gets to meet timothy mcveigh, share a cell with timothy mcveigh and then get fucked by timothy mcveigh.
Relationships: Dylan Klebold/Eric Harris (past), Eric Harris/Timothy McVeigh (1968-2001)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 4





	on me dit

**Author's Note:**

> WHO ASKED ME TO WRITE THIS??? NOBODY I WENT ON A FUCKING BINGE OF THESE REALLY BAD GACHA ANIMATIONS OF BAD EVENTS AND SOMEONE HAD DONE COLUMBINE WHERE DYLAN WAS A FUCKING FURRY ANYWAY ENJOY XX

“didn’t realise you counted as a federal crime, harris.”

eric ignored tim, staring down at his shoes. any other circumstance, eric would’ve been ecstatic to meet timothy mcveigh, but everything seemed useless after dylan’s death. yeah, other kids died, but dylan’s was the most important.

eric liked to think dylan was sat next to him, doing that stupid fucking quiet laugh that he did whenever eric was being a fool. 

“mine counts as a fed since i murdered him on fed grounds,” matthew… stranger? granger? (eric hadn’t been listening when he told him) said, before timothy looked over at him, rolling his eyes.

“no one cares, matt. fuckin’ nazi,” tim hissed, before looking back at eric, a wry grin on his face. “you’re a fuckin’ nazi too, ain’t ya, harris?” 

eric kept his head down, the van suddenly becoming more stifling than his jefferson county cell. eric didn’t want to openly admit his newly-found claustrophobia, but god he couldn’t breathe. dylan would’ve smiled sympathetically, and distracted eric with a kiss and a hug. instead dylan was scattered over some shitty field instead of being in eric’s arms.

“don’t talk much, do ya?” tim kept pressing, leaning forward, keeping an eye on the dozing security guard. “is it guilt, huh? we all got it, we all got regrets. they’ll execute us soon enough, why do you think they’re takin’ us to indiana?”

matthew looked over, suddenly wide-eyed. “they ain’t executin’ me, are they?” tim sighed again, shaking his head.

“some aryan brotherhood hick? what fuckin’ purpose would executing your skinhead ass serve?” tim’s hands tensed, the chains clinking a little as he moved around. “nah, harris might be a wannabe goebbels, but he fucked the establishment.” tim leaned forward. “you’ve got my respect.”

eric still felt numb. he didn’t smile, or even acknowledge tim’s praise. he simply sat, firmly looking at the ground. he tried to ignore the two men, but didn’t have much time to dwell on it as the van came to a stop, and the doors were suddenly flung open.

“oliver, y’wanna fuckin’ get these miserable fucks into processin’?” a burly officer yelled at the sleeping guard, who suddenly jerked awake.

“uh, yes sir! right away sir!” the guard shouted, causing matthew to wince. “sorry sir, it was a long journey.” the guard desperately tried to push past the prisoners, waving his rifle around worse than eric had after dylan had died.

eric stood up, the shackles feeling as light as a feather in comparison to what he was carrying around in his head. it’d been a year. there’d been a damn trial. eric remembered the pure disgust his family had looked at him with after the romantic connection between dylan and eric had come out.

eric yearned for the prick of the needle that would send him down to be with dylan. he’d dreamt about it and then always woke up in a good mood at the thought that he’d be one day closer to death.

“prisoner 7861247, you and 7171346 are in cell block four, cell number twelve,” the registrar didn’t look up, but a rough hand on his arm steered eric towards a pair of large metal doors. timothy soon joined him, and gave eric a wide smile.

“looks like us homebrews are in together,” he gave eric a wink, but eric just stared straight ahead, thinking more about if dylan was having fun in hell right now, laughing at what’d happened to eric. 

the silence was thick in the cell as they were unshackled, the officer having explained that the shared cell was temporary until tim’s execution, and that eric wouldn’t be too soon after. and then he shut the door, and was gone.

tim sighed deeply, watching his cell mate simply stand in the middle of the room, staring out of the barred window. “man, might just ask them to end me sooner if you’re gonna be this conversational.”

eric suddenly looked over his shoulder, before turning around completely. “were you and nichols together?” he asked, completely deadpan.

timothy looked down for a moment, before back up at eric. his face was unreadable, and tim held back the question as to why he was asking. “no. a guy named mike fortier-“

“was your army roommate, right?” eric interrupted, sitting down on the bottom bunk. tim was taken back slightly, then remembered how much of a hero he was to the kid. 

“yeah, we did some experimenting. decided we liked it. asked him to,” tim sighed, scratching the side of his neck. “i asked him to run away with me, and i told him i loved him. he freaked. ran off and married some chick.”

eric looked away, clasping his hands together. “he’s in prison now, huh? for not telling anyone what you were doing?” tim nodded, looking out the window. huh. it was pretty relaxing. maybe that’s why eric did it so much.

“what about you then? that blonde boy?” tim asked, finally taking a seat on the bed next to eric, the springs groaning under their combined weight. timothy hadn’t noticed how much shorter eric was than him, but could see how young he was in comparison. death row was no place for a nineteen year old.

“i didn't deserve dylan,” eric whispered, his eyes involuntarily filling with tears. “didn’t deserve anything from him.” he moved a hand up to his face to wipe his cheeks, before clenching his jaw. “he’s the only thing i don’t regret.”

timothy mcveigh wasn’t quite sure what caused him to lean over and press a kiss to eric harris’ lips. but when eric’s fingers suddenly dug into his cheeks, tim knew it was the right choice. a muffled groan left eric as tim stood up, immediately stooping down. 

jesus, tim. the boy is nearly 15 years younger than you and just cried over his dead boyfriend. was he really this desperate?

was it desperation that caused him to slip a hand under eric’s baggy pants? or was it something a little deeper? eric clearly didn’t care, considering the way he was quietly whimpering and bucking his hips up.

“shh, c’mon eric. don’t be loud,” tim whispered, leaning further over the whining boy and pumping his hand faster. eric’s eyes fluttered shut, and he scratched his nails from tim’s neck down to his shoulders. “be good, yeah?”

eric gasped, before planting his foot firmly on tim’s chest and shoving him a way. “you don’t take control that easily, mcveigh,” eric hissed, suddenly slamming him against a wall. tim snarled, trying to shove him off, but slinked back when eric’s stubby fingers started rubbing him through the orange fabric.

“jesus, fuck,” tim intelligently gasped, eric’s hand unrelenting. “bend over, i’ll fuck you.”

the bluntness of the statement made eric shiver in a way he hadn’t since he’d said it to dylan. dylan had been fucking good to him, not too loud, but not too quiet. that border of slightly too much made eric’s dick fucking pulse with need. 

but this was his hero, this was who he wanted to be. now, all he wanted to be was back in dylan’s arms, but being split open on tim’s cock was a nice substitute. dylan would totally understand.

eric played all this off, however, and shrugged casually. “yeah, alright then,” he situated himself over the most romantic of all intercourse surfaces, the toilet cistern. tim held back a laugh, but tugged down eric’s pants anyway.

“did he ever put it in you?” he asked, spitting on his fingers and tracing one over eric’s hole. “jus’ so i know what to be like, ain’t tryna start conversation.”

eric rolled his eyes, looking over his shoulder. “we were two seventeen year old boys with pipe bombs, yeah i’ve had things in my ass.”

* * *

eric didn’t feel anything afterwards. tim had fallen asleep, one arm draped over eric’s waist. but eric couldn’t sleep. he just stared at the wall until a buzzer sounded for dinner. tim woke up with a snort and didn’t realise eric didn’t answer him once as they got dressed.

eric silently followed the line of students going down to the cafeteria, stiffly walking. he thought back to being incredibly proud of himself after dylan had fucked him for the first time, sporting a collection of bruises on his neck. 

tim had left no marks, just a slightly gaped ass. there was no way eric could try and mould tim to fill the dylan void. but maybe eric would keep tim around. just for a bit.

* * *

eric’s 20th birthday passed by with a smuggled (slightly squished) cake from tim, a pocket bible from his brother and a new pillow from the warden.

as they sat on the floor of their cell, tim and eric didn’t speak. they rarely did after lights out, neither one of them wanted to risk being separated before their big days.

june 11th had been set for tim, followed by eric on the 15th. death row was a long, slow wait for most, but the two infamous murderers were so hated that bush was prepared to be a little trigger happy with the federal execution orders.

eric didn’t say a word as he got into the bunk first, followed closely by tim. the cell was cold, but neither of them noticed. 

“night, eric,” tim whispered, draping his arm over eric’s waist. eric didn’t respond, aside from a gentle sniff. 

-

eric continued to feel nothing as the two were woken early on the 11th june. 

“c’mon, mcveigh, it’s time,” eric heard one of the guards say, not bothering to even open his eyes. he felt tim’s cold, smooth lips press a kiss to his forehead, and then he was gone.

another one bites the dust, eric supposed.

* * *

eric harris had final words, in comparison to his cell mate. the meaning of said words have been hotly debated ever since.

“see you soon, sunshine boy.”

**Author's Note:**

> song: on me dit (i am told) - anaïs delva


End file.
